


Lavender

by raunchyandpaunchy



Series: Sun's Dawn [9]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Alchemy, F/F, Femslash February, Femslash February 2019, One Shot, Potions, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-25 16:15:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17728562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raunchyandpaunchy/pseuds/raunchyandpaunchy
Summary: It's been a strange week for Nadine, and she's still getting to know everyone in her new home. There's only one person she's yet to get to know, and for some reason her presence sets Nadine on edge. Still, she's determined to work Ingun Black-Briar out.





	Lavender

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after Chapter 5 of my main fic, [The Edged Lexicon.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15758052/chapters/36650358)

The walls of the Sanctum surrounded Nadine, magelight and candlelight flickering against the curved, ragged ridges of the cavernous space. Nadine sipped her mead, sitting by the fire, still taking everything in. It all felt like a dream, but she’d never had dreams so vivid she could smell the woodsmoke and the faint damp and the distinctive scent of leather. She’d also never had dreams about mages turning themselves invisible and fucking her senseless in front of an approving crowd, or dreams where she felt pain as intense as Nazir’s cane laying its retribution across her arse. It still ached, even after Ulfberth’s healing. She was sure she had bruises and welts underneath her skirt. Some small part of her smiled, strangely proud of her new marks.

It definitely wasn’t a dream. It was one of those rare instances where real life was stranger than fiction—if someone had told Nadine a week previous that she’d steal a book, catch a local couple in the throes of passion and go on to join a sex guild, she’d have laughed and told them they should write a novel that’d rival The Lusty Argonian Maid. Yet here she was, surrounded by people who welcomed her with open arms as she welcomed them with open legs.

Mostly everyone, anyway. Astrid and Nazir had been surprisingly welcoming, despite their vocations and their demeanour. Nadine had even shared the previous evening with the pair, nestling into Astrid as she stroked Nadine’s hair, listening to Nazir tell her about his visits to Solstheim with Drevis. Even Vex had lost a little of her frostiness, eyes smiling and cheeks flushing as they shared a bottle of spiced wine and talked about their home cities. Nadine still knew little about Vex, but what she had trusted to tell her meant the world, and she treasured that information like precious gems.

There was only one person in the Sanctum she’d yet to figure out, to warm up to. She currently crouched over her alembic, grinding something diligently in her mortar and pestle, concentration fixed on her task. Nadine bit her lip, debating whether to make an attempt at breaking the ice. She still didn’t know if it was aloofness on Ingun’s part or nervousness on her own, but something about the woman made Nadine fear to approach her, as if she’d be dismissed as suddenly as she appeared. In a strange, subconscious way, Ingun reminded Nadine of her sister Rosaline—haughty and elegant and ever so slightly sneering.

This was silly. Nadine was being silly. She stood up, approaching the alchemy table with trepidation.

“Ingun?” Nadine hoped she sounded bright, confident. “We haven’t really had a chance to get to know each other properly yet. I was hoping we could spend some time?”

Ingun continued attending to her alembic, the concoction within bubbling violently. Nadine wondered if she’d heard her or if she’d need to repeat herself when the woman turned around, her expression somewhere between annoyed and surprised.

“Oh, yes.” Ingun smiled, and Nadine noticed how the gesture never really made its way to her striking green eyes. “Hello, Nadine. Settling in, I trust?”

“I think so.” Nadine toyed with a loose thread that trailed from the sleeve of her dress, running it through her fingers. “Everyone seems so welcoming and kind.” She grinned. “Well, now that they’re not whipping my arse raw, that is.”

Ingun cracked a smile. “Didn’t scare you away, then?”

“It’s going to take more than that to frighten me off,” Nadine said, head held high.

“Well,” Ingun said, eyebrow raised as she turned back to her alchemy station, “aren’t you the little firesprite.” She turned the spigot at the corner of the alembic, allowing the mixture inside to funnel out in steady, precise little drops.

Nadine continued pulling at the thread, weaving it through finger and thumb, not knowing what to do with herself as she watched Ingun work.

“You’re a Conjurer, aren’t you?”

Nadine looked up, surprised. “Uh… yes, I am, actually.” Her nose scrunched. “How did you know?”

“Might’ve been a wild guess.” Ingun shrugged. “Might’ve overheard you discussing familiars with Drevis. Either way, this potion should help fortify your natural talents.” She sniffed. “If you’re interested.”

The gesture wasn’t lost on Nadine. “I am, actually. Thank you.” She smiled as Ingun handed her the vial, intricately signed with the potion’s properties and ingredients— _Potion of Fortify Conjuration, contains extracts of lavender and blue mountain flower._

“I could’ve added a little wheat to it, made it a formidable healing potion too,” Ingun mused. “Or I could’ve added the ingredients to some ash hopper jelly, and made some more salve for your spanked arse instead.”

Nadine pocketed the potion. “Do you need any help?” She bit her lip. “Or if you don’t, are you okay if I keep you company? I just find it fascinating to watch you work, and…” Her face flushed, immediately embarrassed at the admission.

Ingun’s face remained a picture of indifference as she considered. “Well, you are a mage, and I’m assuming you have some knowledge of alchemical supplies…” She looked at Nadine, sizing her up. “And you haven’t been completely unbearable. I suppose I could use a hand.” The faintest half-smile crossed her lips as she passed Nadine an apron and a set of gloves. “I need nightshade, honeycomb and spriggan sap. They should all be on the shelves over in the corner.”

Putting on the gloves, Nadine felt herself bristle, still trying to parse the enigmatic alchemist. Every comment from her lips felt completely backhanded, although she was complimenting and insulting Nadine at the same time, and she wasn’t entirely sure how to take the interaction. Strangely, every spark of genuineness she drew from Ingun felt like a huge triumph; a wall pushed through, a barrier broken. Maybe their relationship would be more of a climb than the others, but maybe that was all right.

Nadine returned, ingredients in hand. “Here we go. What’s next?”

“See those scales? Measure exactly one moonstone weight's worth of nightshade.”

“You weigh your ingredients?” Nadine asked, surprised. She’d always just eyeballed amounts. Perhaps that’s why her potions were hit and miss.

Ingun sighed. “I do when I want my concoctions to actually work.” She picked up the jar of honeycomb, looking inside before looking back to Nadine. “And I’d prefer this one to work too, so measure it right. After that, you can grind the flower up with the pestle and mortar, until it’s a fine, workable paste.”

It didn’t take long for Nadine to regret her offer of help. Her own approach to both cooking and potion-making was slapdash and carefree, which was in direct contrast to Ingun’s painstaking precision. Getting the damned scales to balance had been hard enough—Ingun hadn’t let up until they were perfectly parallel—but grinding the nightshade into what Ingun considered the correct consistency was unbearably tedious, and Nadine’s arm ached with effort as she listened to the monotonous scrape of stone against stone.

“So, Nadine.” Ingun’s mouth curled into a mischievous smile. “What other adventures have you had before this place?” The way Ingun phrased it made it very clear she wasn’t asking Nadine about her dungeon delves. “I bet a pretty little thing like you has plenty of stories to tell.”

Nadine had preferred the noise of the pestle and mortar. “Not nearly as many as you might think.”

Ingun looked up, surprised. “You weren’t…?”

“Not quite, but near enough. Any man I’d ever been with seemed not to notice that I wasn’t enjoying myself as much as they were,” Nadine muttered bitterly. “And… and prior to Adrianne, I’d never been with another woman before. Still haven’t." Nadine flushed furiously, and pointedly looked anywhere but to the woman stood next to her.

“Well, Adrianne certainly didn’t have any complaints,” Ingun said conspiratorially. Then, with amusement, added: “Nor did you on your initiation, sweet Nadine.”

The pestle ground against the mortar as Nadine pointedly fixed her attention on her task.

Ingun looked over at the mortar’s contents. “Gods! Stop, or you’ll pulp it into nothing.” She scraped the mixture into her alembic, alongside the carefully measured spriggan sap that she’d prepared. “Let’s hope this still works, or it’s all been for naught and you’ll have to do it again.”

Nadine didn’t think she’d wished harder for anything to work in her life. They watched the liquid bubble, slowly distilling down to something dark and viscous and bitter-smelling.

“I take it Adrianne gave you something after your… first encounter?”

Nadine nodded, remembering the acrid, lingering taste of the potion, and the way it’d made her stomach turn.

“Well, that’s what we’re making.” Ingun let the concoction drip down into the bottle below, already part-filled with honey. “And I’ll bet she didn’t tell you the most important part.”

“Which is?”

Ingun grinned. “Washing it down with a healthy gulp of wine.” She corked and shook the bottle, eyeing it up critically as she held it to the light. “Looks adequate. A little thin, perhaps, but it’s certainly going to be effective.” She made to pluck a label from the shelf before deciding otherwise. “Well, you know the ingredients, and I’m assuming you know the usage. Speaking of which, I don’t think you ever had any after your initiation, did you?”

 _Damn._ “Not yet, no.”

“Well, unless you’d like to have a little half-Dunmer child following you around Skyrim in nine months,” Ingun said, retrieving a bottle of Alto Wine, “you’d best drink up."

Nadine reluctantly took the vial, face scrunching as she loosed the cork.

"We can share the rest of the bottle afterwards," Ingun offered, retrieving a couple of goblets from the cupboard. "Maybe I'll tell you about my initiation, if you get me drunk enough."

The potion was horrifically bitter, even with the honey, and Nadine grasped for the wine bottle once she'd drained the vial's contents. Taking Ingun's advice, she knocked back a hearty swallow, wiping the errant droplets from her lips with careless abandon. She didn't even care that Ingun was eyeing her, eyebrow raised, her expression amused.

"You're a fucking sadist, you know," Nadine said, the potent bitterness of the potion still lingering on her tongue. 

Ingun gave a sly smile. "So I've been told."


End file.
